


Look Who's Coming For Breakfast

by fideliant



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Hair, Fingerfucking, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fideliant/pseuds/fideliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would want to have plain, boring old breakfast when there's glorious morning sex to be had? Well, Bilbo would, for one, but unfortunately for him Thorin has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look Who's Coming For Breakfast

Bilbo woke as he had for most of the week: naked, soft pillows, silky smooth covers pulled up to his chest, an arm draped over his midsection, and a mildly calloused hand was stroking gently at his stomach under the blankets.

“Good morning,” he mumbled with his eyes held shut against the light, still drowsy with sleep.

Warm air gusted against the back of his neck and the hand stopped moving, laying itself flat against his belly. “Good morning,” he heard Thorin intone behind him.

“I thought I told you to wake me,” Bilbo sighed, wondering what time it had to be already and if it was too late to get both of his breakfasts in before elevenses. Too often in Erebor had he missed a meal or two in a day, with consort duties _this_ and consort duties _that_ crowding out whatever was left of good old being-a-hobbit time he had to himself.

The hand resumed stroking, a lazy rhythm to it. “I couldn’t,” Thorin admitted. “You looked tired.”

“Thorin, nobody ever looks like a ball of energy when they’re fast asleep. That’s sort of the point.”

Thorin’s hand slipped a notch lower, fingers scratching the light thatch of hair just below Bilbo’s navel. “Perhaps it is just that I enjoy watching you sleep,” he said.

Bilbo held back a grin even though he was sure that Thorin wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. He turned over just so to look the dwarf king right in the eye. “That’s creepy, Thorin.”

“But it is the truth,” Thorin said. His fingers dragged down to Bilbo’s thighs, stroking a caress against his skin. “The knowledge that you are in comfort and safety brings me endless contentment.”

And, honestly, it was hard to argue with _that,_ even given the premise. “I’ll be safe and comfortable even if you’re going to wake me up on time,” Bilbo assured him, covering his hand and patting it with his own. He yawned, wide, and made to slip out of bed to get dressed, thinking about what he could scrummage out of the pantry for his breakfasts. Honey-cakes. Honey-cakes sounded good, perhaps with a pot of lavender tea, and if he was economic about his servings, he could still make seven meals easy.

Bilbo stopped, frowning. Thorin’s arm was holding him back, keeping him in bed. “Thorin,” he said, and then Thorin shifted closer to align himself along the curve of Bilbo’s body, pressing his nose into Bilbo’s hair and nuzzling him there, and, oh. _Oh_. Bilbo tensed his bottom against the hardness pressed into it, holding back a sigh. “Really, Thorin.”

Really, indeed — Thorin was now kissing Bilbo’s hair, the back of his neck, his exposed shoulders, sliding his lips along from spot to spot, and the hand he had on Bilbo’s abdomen was going even lower, coming to rest at the base of his cock. “Really,” he confirmed, his voice low and muzzy with unmistakeable want, not that there was anything for Bilbo to possibly mistake about the hard evidence jutting against his lower back.

“I haven’t even had any breakfast yet,” Bilbo moaned, turning his face into the pillow.

“Neither have I,” Thorin murmured, squeezing Bilbo in his hand softly. “Breakfast can wait, love.”

“And this can’t?”

“I would prefer that, yes.” His other hand found the cleft of Bilbo’s bottom, teasing a finger between his cheeks to rub over his hole.

Bilbo sighed, letting his mind drift to his honey-cakes for a moment. They would be soft and overpoweringly sweet, just as he always made them, and yet he couldn’t immediately say no to having sex in favour of a dish of freshly-baked honey cakes. Bilbo didn’t really want to think too much about what that said for his standards. “There has to be some rule against this sort of thing,” he grumbled, feeling himself harden slowly in Thorin’s hand despite himself.

“Against making love?” Thorin said, sounding appalled.

“Against doing it this early the day,” Bilbo clarified. Okay, so he had no problems with pleasure, he was a life-loving hobbit after all, and regular sex was one of the lovelier things about being in a relationship. It was just that…well. It seemed a little indecent to have a go first thing before breakfast, for starters, and while Bilbo could admit that sex with Thorin was pretty darn incredible, it was hardly what he’d put at the top of his to-do list for any given day when there were other respectable things to be done like gardening and crocheting and playing with the little dwarf children in the halls.

He felt Thorin’s mouth travel to his earlobe, where Thorin proceeded with kissing, nipping, tugging, and Bilbo found himself bemoaning the day he ever told Thorin about how sensitive he was at his ears, because that was all it took to drive a needy groan from his throat.

“It is fortuitous that I am king, then,” Thorin rumbled, sounding much too pleased with himself. “I know of no such decree that outlaws early-morning intercourse, and even if there were such a decree, I would strike it down posthaste. There is nothing wrong with making love at any time of the day.”

“Don’t you have a kingdom to rule?” Bilbo asked, struggling to keep his focus — the tip of Thorin’s tongue kept flicking at the shell of his ear, sliding in and out, and when Thorin shuttled his fingers down the length of Bilbo’s cock, Bilbo had to swallow to stop his mouth from falling open.

“Erebor’s not going anywhere,” purred Thorin. “I assure you that my advisers are perfectly capable of waiting for me to field my rulings, just like breakfast. And besides, Balin is taking my first few meetings for me today, if that is your concern.”

Bilbo sucked a breath in and bit down on his lower lip, resisting the urge to thrust into Thorin’s grip. “You sent poor Balin to do your work just so you could laze in bed with me?” he managed, though not without a squeak when Thorin reached lower to fondle his balls.

“Of course not. He offered to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Thorin made a scandalised sound. “You can ask him later, if you want.”

Bilbo had every intention to, and he was going to make this clear, only Thorin squeezed him again and again, bucking against him, and Bilbo groaned with equal parts resignation and arousal. He considered it for a while, weighing the options he had. On one hand, there was breakfasts to be had, but on the other, which he was steadily leaning towards as Thorin continued to nuzzle his ear, Bilbo did want to. Gosh, he wanted to, despite the knowledge that it wasn’t gentlehobbitly in any way, shape or form.

Heck, he was getting rodgered by a dwarf on a regular basis, a dwarf who so happened to be a king and also his lawfully-wedded husband. With regards to whether or not anything about him could be considered gentlehobbitly, Bilbo had a feeling that he was toeing the wrong side of that line by any conventional Shire hobbit’s measure.

Bilbo breathed out, then shifted back a little and reached around to tap Thorin lightly on the hip. “Just make it a quick one,” he mumbled, and Thorin grunted in assent, his smile all too obvious in the kiss he pressed to Bilbo’s left shoulder.

“As quick as it’ll go,” Thorin said, taking away the hand he had at Bilbo’s arse. There was the sound of a drawer being opened, a chink of metal, and then Bilbo gasped as cold, oily fingers pushed past his cheeks to prod at his hole. He knew that he wasn’t in a position to complain given the request he had made, but goodness gracious — Thorin certainly wasn’t wasting any time at all.

“Couldn’t you have warmed it up first?” Bilbo complained.

Thorin slid a thick finger into him, followed quickly by another, and when he worked them both outward against the inner ring of muscle, Bilbo hissed, bearing down on Thorin’s fingers involuntarily. _Goodness,_ that felt amazing. “You did say to make it quick,” Thorin reminded him, pistoning in and out, making sure to stretch Bilbo as he went along.

“I, oh,” Bilbo gritted, pushing himself back and trying to remember what he initially wanted to say in reply. Thorin was still massaging his cock at intervals, spreading the precome from his slit all over the glans with his thumb, the friction causing desire to coil low in Bilbo’s groin. Not being able to see Thorin was a bit frustrating, but for the most part Bilbo settled back into him, seeking as much bodily contact with Thorin as possible to compensate for that.

Bilbo shivered as the fingers inside him curled and wriggled, then pulled all the way out to the tips, stretching him in a slow, tantalising circle, and greedily entered right back in with a third added to their count. He clenched his jaw, tight, and let his eyes flutter shut.

“Alright?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo nodded wordlessly, licking his lips. He felt full and his breaths were coming out in pants already, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough — he needed more, much, much more than that, only Thorin was keeping to stretching him open for now, not going any deeper than was necessary to loosen up his entrance. All the while, Thorin was warm against the curve of his body, his body hair coarse and scratchy and surprisingly sensual, a dense rug of fur Bilbo could feel from his shoulder blades all the way to the lowest part of his back.

“Need to get that trimmed,” Bilbo murmured, thinking out loud for a moment.

Thorin stopped moving his fingers inside him. “What was that?”

“Oh.” Bilbo blushed, shaking his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

There was a pause, then Thorin kissed his back, beard briefly itchy against Bilbo’s skin, and he rocked in with his fingers all the way just once, brushing that spot inside Bilbo that had him writhing and cursing, and retreated in synchrony with a languid, purposeful drag of fingers lengthwise along Bilbo’s fully erect cock.

“Unhh,” Bilbo gurgled, quite incoherent as it stood. He found himself gripping handfuls of bedspread for purchase and wishing that Thorin would just bloody _hurry up_ with getting on with it. His cock was aching and he was so turned on that it was almost an agony, the feeling of being so close but not quite there making his thighs quiver with instinct and impatience. It crossed his mind to just reach down and end it for himself with a few well-executed tugs, except Thorin released his cock and grabbed his hip to turn him slightly into the bed at an angle before he could do so.

“No touching,” Thorin said, as though he had just read Bilbo’s thoughts. “Just a bit more.” He rotated the fingers he had bunched together in Bilbo’s arse, twisting them left and right a few times before withdrawing them completely, leaving Bilbo with the uncomfortable feeling of being too wet and slick and exposed down below. There were more clinking sounds, accompanied by the scent of mineral oil and the slippery slap of oil on flesh.

Bilbo pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over his shoulder in time for Thorin to swoop onto him, meeting his lips with a kiss. “Just relax,” Thorin murmured, guiding Bilbo back down to lie on his side.

“Just remember that I gave up breakfast for this,” Bilbo said, partially muffled by his own pillow.

“You won’t regret it,” Thorin promised, taking hold of Bilbo’s hips with slick hands and shifting into position. Bilbo felt himself harden again with bubbling anticipation at the slide of Thorin’s cock against his hole, took a deep breath to calm himself, and relaxed the best he could as Thorin slowly pushed into him.

_“Guhh,”_ Bilbo grunted, arching his back against the almost-painful stretch of his arse around the first inches of Thorin’s cock. The low-grade burn of penetration was not unfamiliar to him but it was just as intense all the same, a thrilling arousal that gripped him to his core whilst he willed his body to yield and it did, dilating to accommodate the bulbous pressure of Thorin breaching him. Where Thorin’s fingers had been compact and snug and initially cold from the oil, his cock was longer and wider and degrees hotter, filling him more than ever. Bilbo clenched his hole once, twice, fighting the intrusion, and he heard Thorin give a throaty moan behind him.

“Tight,” Thorin said, driving forward another inch.

Bilbo nodded into his pillow, nearly unable to speak in the immediacy of the moment. “Keep,” he managed, and then, with a short shake of his head, “More.”

He felt Thorin twitch inside him, then Thorin recommenced sliding in, maddeningly slow. Bilbo sucked in another breath and he forced his hips back to meet Thorin as he entered, taking him even deeper and reveling in the unparalleled feeling of intimacy and fullness this never failed to bring.

“Durin’s name,” Thorin whispered in awe when they had both stopped moving and he was as deep as he could go, his thighs now pressed up against Bilbo’s arse. He laid down on top of Bilbo, slopping his lips against his cheek. “You — oh, Mahal.”

“Ditto,” Bilbo gasped, tensing up now that he had all of Thorin inside him. It was all the prompting Thorin needed to commence rolling his hips, fucking Bilbo into the bed with a slow, tidal rhythm. The length of his cock was deliciously smooth and warm against the walls of Bilbo’s arse, a sensitivity that kept on building the longer they maintained contact, and Bilbo couldn’t keep his body from jerking involuntarily whenever Thorin shifted inside him, like there were sparks being shot up his spine on every tiny movement either of them made.

Thorin took Bilbo’s cock in one hand, stroking it clumsily back to hardness, and held on to his shoulder with the other. He snarled into Bilbo’s shoulder on every jerk of his hips, a vicious contrast against the kittenish squeaks that Bilbo was producing himself. There was a moment where he drew back too much and slipped out of Bilbo completely, but Thorin pushed back in quickly without much time lost to resume pounding into him. Another few thrusts and the head of Thorin’s cock rubbed up against his prostate, and Bilbo’s squeaking promptly turned into keening.

“You like that?” Thorin growled into his ear, palm braced against his shoulder, and he repeated the motion, thrusting into him yet again. “You want more of that?”

“Yes…please — more, _oh,_ ” Bilbo gasped in reply, reduced to single-word answers for want of anything else he could handle, and he couldn’t resist any longer; he reached down and closed a hand around his swollen, sticky cock, pulling on it along with Thorin, and that coupled with having Thorin balls-deep in him was the most incredible thing he had ever felt in the longest time. How had he ever thought that breakfast could be comparable to this?

Well, there went that particular worldview.

There was already a generous amount of heat flaring in Bilbo’s belly and his groin and his balls, spreading out into unmitigated pleasure tinged with slight desperation. He was pushing back on Thorin, as if it would get him to speed up even the slightest bit, but Thorin was still thrusting slowly, clearly taking his time when all Bilbo wanted was _faster_ and _harder_ and _more,_ always more, and he was ready to either beg or cry out in frustration when Thorin shuddered and grunted right before dull heat began to pulse into him at short intervals.

Once the throbbing had lessened significantly, Thorin went slack on top of him, his hands lying limp for a long while. He kissed the side of Bilbo’s neck and lifted himself, pulling out of him, and then before Bilbo could say or do anything, Thorin crawled down and spread Bilbo’s cheeks and sealed his mouth over his hole, working his tongue in without any warning whatsoever.

_“Oh!”_ Bilbo squawked, bucking upward only to have Thorin force him right back onto the bed, grab his bum in both hands, and hold him down as he went mad all over Bilbo's arsehole with his tongue, lapping generously at as much hot, loosened flesh as he could reach. There was no resistance Bilbo could put up to Thorin’s invading tongue whatsoever, especially not right after being fucked wide open, and on top of that was Thorin’s hand quickly joined his to pump on Bilbo’s cock, how Thorin’s beard kept scraping relentlessly between his arse cheeks as he thrust his tongue in and out, how absolutely filthy Thorin was making Bilbo feel for the both of them.

It was only a matter of seconds until it felt like his balls were tingling, a tight pressure in them which could not be denied, and then Bilbo tipped over the edge and his orgasm took hold. He came into the sheets with a wail, unable to think or move or do anything but push and clench and _push,_ right up until he was panting and trembling and Thorin had removed his tongue entirely, returning to lie right next to him. “That,” Thorin said heavily, rolling Bilbo onto his back, “was glorious.”

All Bilbo could manage was a short, high-pitched whimper that didn’t communicate even a smidgen of what he was feeling at the moment. It was as though his head had ruptured like an overripe melon, having that orgasm, and he didn't even dare to try moving, blissed-out by the post-coital haze that had swirled up to consume him. He lay still and let Thorin kiss him, suckling sweetly at his mouth, and he closed his eyes, much too delirious to respond in any other way. “Goodness, Thorin,” Bilbo finally droned, reaching up with a hand to scrub at his face.

“You agree, yes?” Thorin said over his lips, the satisfaction evident in his tone.

Bilbo breathed in and let it all out in a long sigh, allowing himself and Thorin a guilty grin. “I’m not going to ever get anything done in the morning like this,” he lamented, and Thorin smiled and kissed him again.

“We don’t have to do this every day,” Thorin said. “Perhaps just every other day.”

“Ha, ha.” Bilbo was really hoping that Thorin was just joking, even though he seemed dead serious about it. “I like having breakfast, just so you know.”

“More than what we just did together?”

“Yes,” Bilbo lied.

Thorin stared at him, his forehead creased in thought. “Then I shall have breakfast brought to you in bed every day, if it means that you’ll be agreeable to this more often,” he said.

Pause. “You’re kidding, right?” Bilbo asked uncertainly.

Thorin fixed him with a solemn, severe-eyed look. “Have you known me to kid about such things, Bilbo?”

“Um…” Now that Bilbo thought about it, Thorin wasn’t the type to kid about anything. Ever. “But…but —” he stuttered, trying to cobble together a protest.

“I shall give the orders,” Thorin said with a fond smile, tipping Bilbo’s face towards him to kiss him, a slow, gentle slide of lips against lips. “You can expect breakfasts in bed from tomorrow onwards.”

Bilbo groaned as Thorin wrapped his arms around him. They were most definitely going to have to start wearing pyjamas to bed, he thought.


End file.
